


Rat Trap

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Established Relationship, Harm to Animals, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Rat Traps, Rats, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Craig and Tweek's apartment has an unauthorized tenant.





	

_Snap_

“Gah! Jesus Christ, man! Don’t do that!”

Craig glanced up at his boyfriend, Tweek, with a blank expression. “Do you want to set it?”

Tweek ignored the question. His hands were tangled in unruly blonde locks and his face was contorted in sheer panic. “Did it get you?! Are you hurt?!”

“I’m fine, Tweek. Relax. Breathe,” Craig soothed.

They were standing at the edge of their kitchen counter. In his hands, Craig held a traditional, no nonsense rat trap. A second trap and the plastic packaging from the first lay on the granite countertop. Craig and Tweek’s apartment had been housing an unwanted visitor for nearly a month now. The garbage under the sink had been ransacked a number of times, and pellet droppings appeared in all corners of the house. Ever since Tweek had realized they had a rat bunking with them-he'd been blessedly unaware for two weeks-he hadn’t shut up about different diseases, bugs, and super rabies. Craig doubted the legitimacy of Tweek’s complaints, but he’d do anything to make the blonde happy. Also, it was pretty nasty.

Tweek’s father loaned them some fancy, electric traps. They were supposed to make disposal super easy by closing the rat inside a container and electrocuting it. They were also low stress to set up, which was a plus when your boyfriend had an anxiety disorder.

“They’ll never work,” Thomas Tucker had scoffed. “You need the old fashioned traps. Big ones. None of this modern bullshit.”

“Dad,” Craig groaned.

“Leave him alone, Thomas,” Craig’s mom sighed.

“Rats are smart. The big guy’s never going to go for it. Get a normal trap and bait it with peanut butter. It’s like crack to the sons of bitches.”

The electronic traps hadn’t worked, and Craig now held a normal trap, peanut butter on the bait pedal.

“Ok,” he breathed, pulling back the bow once more. “What the fuck am I supposed to do? Where are the instructions?” Tweek hastily grabbed the plastic packaging, turning it over to reveal the directions for setting the trap and holding it out for Craig to read. “...place bait... ok... engage locking bar... that’s this thing right? Ok... engage locking bar on curved portion of bait pedal... shit! I need to see the bait pedal.”

_Snap_

“Jesus Christ!”

“I’m not hurt!” Craig wiped some of the peanut butter off of the pedal. “Ok, once more.” He pulled back the bow for the third time, keeping it held down with both of his thumbs. He twisted his hand so his other fingers could reach the bait pedal and tilt it up.

Craig sighed, looking up at his boyfriend. “I don’t have enough hands,” he stated.

Tweek’s face turned ashen. “No. No, no, no! That’s-Jesus, man-that’s way too much pressure!”

“Tweek!” Craig forced Tweek to look him in the eye. “You can do this.”

Tweek took a deep breath and nodded, rewarding Craig with a heart-stopping smile. At any other moment, Craig would have kissed him, was really tempted, but he needed to focus. Tweek’s hand moved in to grasp the locking bar. “Don’t snap my fingers off,” he pleaded.

Craig nodded. “No worries.”

“Do I attach it here?” He gestured to a slightly risen piece of metal at the end of the bait pedal.

“Yeah. That looks right.”

Tweek pulled on the locking bar, trying to hook it under the piece of upraised metal. He emitted random noises under his breath. “It’s not long enough!”

Craig blinked. “What? That doesn’t make sense!”

“I’m telling you man, this isn’t going to work. Gah!”

“It’s... fuck. Move your fingers Tweek!” Tweek did.

_Snap_

“Blood! You’re bleeding!” Tweek shrieked.

“Only a little.” Craig flipped the trap off. The thumb of his right hand was pooling with blood where the trap had snapped. It stung.

“Oh man, oh man! What do we do?! We don’t have the money for a doctor! What am I supposed to do if you die, man?! I can’t handle this! I can’t! Gah! I’m going to lose my job, the apartment, your parents will hate me,  _my_  parents will hate me!”

Craig tangled the fingers of his left hand into Tweek’s hair. “Hey, I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor and I’m definitely not dying.”

Tweek stilled. “I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. It’s just-it’s really stressing me out.”

Craig stepped a little closer, his bleeding thumb forgotten. “It’s ok. I understand. I was really hoping the electric traps would work so neither of us would have to deal with this crap.” Tweek nodded. “They didn’t though. And I need you. So don’t leave me, ok?”

“Never!”

Craig retracted his fingers and gave the blonde one of his genuine smiles, reserved only for Tweek. Tweek smiled back.

Craig picked up the trap and studied it. He felt stupid when he saw, at the base of the bait pedal, an obvious place to hook the locking bar. “We’re idiots.” He showed Tweek what he’d discovered.

Again, Craig pulled back the bow and lifted the bait pedal slightly. Tweek managed to hook the locking bar, still making noises under his breath as he did so.

And then the trap was set.

“There isn’t enough peanut butter on it,” Craig noticed. Tweek gave him a desperate look that he choose to ignore. Craig grabbed the jar of peanut butter and a spoon. He scooped up some peanut butter. “It’s really sensitive,” he remarked, lowering the spoon to the bait pedal slowly and deliberately. Tweek shook where he stood.

_Snap_

The spoon hit the wood base of the trap at an odd angle. Peanut butter scattered across the counter.

“I can’t! I can’t, man! This is too much pressure!” Tweek charged into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Craig frowned at the closed door. “So much for never leaving me!” he shouted.

“Jesus Christ, man! I’m there in spirit,” came the muffled reply.

Craig turned back to the trap. He picked up the spoon, spreading a generous amount of peanut butter on the bait pedal. This was an easier task now that it was no longer primed. He pulled back the bow and steadied it with one thumb. The strain was unbelievable, and he had to wince at the way the metal cut into the rough pad of his finger, but he managed to free up one hand. As he worked, his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth. Craig’s free hand lifted the locking bar and fitted it into place. Gently, he set the trap against the counter and pulled his fingers away. He picked up the trap by its sides and placed it on the ground with the bait pedal facing the bottom of the cabinets.

“It’s done, Tweek. You can come out now.”

Tweek emerged from the bedroom. He appraised the set trap, then glanced around. “You got blood and peanut butter everywhere, man.” The countertops and cabinets where Craig baited the trap were decorated with streaks of pale brown and red.

“Shut the fuck up. I did it, didn’t I? Fucking rat better be fucking dead in the morning. Piece of shit.”

Tweek laughed, grabbing Craig’s wounded hand and pulling him over to the sink. Craig leaned down and locked his lips with the blonde’s. He caught Tweek’s lower lip, giving it a gentle nibble before swiping his tongue against the entrance to the shorter man’s mouth. Tweek took the initiative and deepened the kiss. His wet hand twisted itself into the short, dark hairs on the back of Craig’s head. The sensation caused Craig to recognize, belatedly, that Tweek shut the water off and he no longer needed to hold his hand out like a hitchhiker. Shrugging off his embarrassment, he hooked a finger through one of belt loops on Tweek’s pants and pulled him closer. A moan echoed in the back of Tweek’s throat.

Craig pulled back a little, grinning when Tweek moved to chase his lips. “Something you want, Tweekers?”

Tweek blinked and focused on Craig’s dark gaze. A maniacal grin graced his sunny features as he drew up on his tiptoes. “Mmm, yes,” he muttered, pressing a searing, closed mouth kiss to Craig’s lips. “One thing more than anything.”

“Oh?”

Tweek smiled against his lips. “I want you to clean up this mess.”

* * *

There was no dead rat in the trap the next morning.

“You’re supposed to bait the trap with gloves on, dumbass. Rats can smell humans and they’ll realize it’s a trap. They won’t go for that, not even if it’s baited with peanut butter.”

Craig growled and flipped off his father.


End file.
